Indiana Jones and the Face of Uzuki
by Rye-bread
Summary: Indiana Jones's life is riddled with tragedy and loss. He has nothing to live for-until the appearance of an old friend-and an ancient artifact-and a hero of ancient lineage.
1. Chapter 1: the masterpiece of nature

The idea for this story has been knocking around in my head for four years. It was inspired by several sources.

The first source was Richard Sirois, Lionheartcartoon at Deviantart-dot-com, famous Kim Possible fan-artist--as stated in my profile.

The second was MinnesotaMutt, another fan-artist at Deviantart-dot-com. She portrayed Indiana Jones as Kim Possible's grandfather.

The third was--I won't say who he was. See if you can guess.

I soon found that MinnesotaMutt's sweetheart--her "Bear", as she calls him--G-Go, a fellow Fanfiction-dot-net Kim Possible fan-author, already had a story about Indy as Kim Possible's grandfather. Indiana Jones and the Tempus Simia. I promise, my storyline is not plagiarized from him.

I am the Glacially Slow Writer. I don't know long this will take. Please be patient, my readers. To pass the time, browse my Kim Possible Narnia story, The Lion, The Naked Mole Rat, and The Treehouse--or my Kim Possible Undead story, Heroine's Legacy--or my Kim Possible --yadda, yadda. Shameless self-promotion.

Indiana Jones and Henry and Anna Jones are the creation of Steven Speilburg and George Lucas. The biographic material is from the Internet Movie DataBase. Coronado Butte, Utah, is a reference to the Coronado Cross, an archaeological artifact shown in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade.

Christopher Walker and Uzuki are the creation--nah--I can't give away the secret yet.

_**INDIANA JONES AND THE FACE OF UZUKI**_

**_chpt1. "the masterpiece of nature"_**

_**1912**_

Anna Jones was laid to rest. The world tour the family took while Dr. Henry Jones, Sr. was on the lecture circuit broadened their son Henry's horizons immeasurably. But it took its toll on their wife and mother. For two years she lingered. Her husband loved her dearly, but he by nature easily that love. He dealt with his grief and sorrow by retreating into his studies.

Henry Jr. seethed with resentment. And he dealt with that resentment by retreating from his father.

_**September, 1913**_

_**CORONADO BUTTE, UTAH**_

It was the first day of the fall semester at Coronado Butte Junior High School. History class. The teacher was taking attendance.

"Jones, Henry."

"Here," he said. What a bore. Just like his life. He had a head full of fantasy, dreams, and adventure. He wanted to shout, "Indiana! Call me Indiana!"

But the children would laugh

And the teacher would sternly admonish him, "Mr. Jones, your name in is Henry. Not a state. Indiana is a state."

The teacher droned on. "Walker, Christopher."

"Here."

Something about the voice caught Indy's attention. He lifted his head and looked back. Everyone did.

Christopher Walker was tall--almost a head taller than anyone else in class. Ramrod straight. Jet-black hair. Piercing blue eyes. A commanding voice.

The girls wanted to swoon. The boys muttered. Indy shrugged. Big deal.

Indy was in his funk--

--Until he heard the teacher mention "Julius Caesar ordering the execution of Cicero."

_What? Augustus Caesar ordered Cicero's death!_ Indy was all set to raise his hand--.

The commanding voice spoke up. "I'm sorry, sir, but it was Augustus Caesar who ordered the death of Cicero. And it was more akin to murder than execution."

The teacher was flustered. "Uh, Mr. Walker, are you sure? I've been teaching this course for fifteen years--."

Indy's hand shot up. "Yessir! That's correct!" He rapidly flipped through the text--not to check his knowledge. He was already aware that his knowledge surpassed that of most of the faculty--and they knew it too. He just wanted to show it to the teacher in black and white. It might be the only time that year he would need to open the book.

Indy caught up with the boy after class. "Hey, Chris! I'm impressed. I"

Christopher shook his hand. "Call me 'Kip'--uh, Henry? Hank?."

Indy grinned broadly. "Indiana. But call me Indy. I'm headed for math class."

"Same here." Kip Walker grinned broadly. Two progenies. Two unconventional names.

They were inseparable. To the casual observer, they couldn't look more different. Indy was slovenly. Unkempt hair, wrinkled shirt, dusty pants, scuffed shoes. Kip was the picture of propriety. Pressed pants, shirt buttoned to the collar, shined shoes. Some days, he wore a suit jacket.

They studied together, had lunch together, and were Boy Scouts in the same troop. They often browsed the library until closing.

Some of the other boys made crude jokes about sexual preference--until Kip looked at them eye-to-eye with a steely glint. Even upperclass football players were intimidated by the stern glare. And Indy had a reputation for being handy with his fists.

Sometimes they would engage each other in a lively debate.

"Stonehenge couldn't have been built by the Celts! It had to be a higher civilization! The Celts didn't have the technology to move stones that size! Look at the Egyptians and their pyramids! The Mayans and their pyramids!"

"The civilizations you mentioned shaped their stones! Look at Stonehenge! Unfinished! Crude! Typical Neolithic style! And as for the means to move stones--look at the Easter Island statues! Those people! Where is their written history? Where is their classical architecture?"

The teachers listened in awe.

And sometimes, the two would converse in French--or German--or Latin.

And they shared private sadness, too.

"My mother died last year."

"My grandfather was killed when I was little. My father's occupation is dangerous. It takes him all over the world. My mother lives overseas. I rarely see them.

"Dad's work took him all over the world, too."

And in such times, when feelings were too deep for words, they would only clasp forearms and embrace each other in a manly way.

And they would repeat one of their favorite sayings from Emerson.

A friend might well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.

_**to be continued**_


	2. Chapter 2:she's dead

This part I actually wrote first, back in the late summer of 2005, after watching Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade.

This story is obviously written before the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I violate the Indy canon. Sorry 'bout that. But then the idea of Indy being Kim Possible's grandfather is also rather extra-canonical.

All characters found in the Indy Jones movies, and created by Spielberg & Lucas.

Except Fuad, Salla's oldest son. And Adrianna--Indy's lost love--more to come. And Christopher (Kip) Walker--more to come.

Hope you don't mind the jumping around from decade to decade. We'll get back to 1913 in the next chpt.

Vaya con Dios.

_**INDIANA JONES AND THE FACE OF UZUKI**_

**_chpt 2. "she's dead"_**

_**1940**_

_**CAIRO, EGYPT**_

To hell with antiquities and relics. Damn them all to hell.

It looked like a new beginning for Indy and his father when they left the Kingdom of Haday.

"What did you find, Dad?" Indy had asked his father.

And Henry Jones, Sr. mused. "Illumination," he finally said.

So had Indy.

Indy, Dr. Jones, Sr., and Marcus Brody accompanied Salla back to Cairo.

Indy had resolved to find Marion Ravenwood.

Marion had left him after the those two federal agents-cum-shysters, Colonel Musgrove and Major Eaton, had confiscated the Ark of the Covenant. She was ready to give him her heart. She was ready to share his bed, his name, his life. But he couldn't get past his resentment over the Ark's loss.

He would tell his story--how the father and son had found each other. And he would own up to his behavior.

And if she would not accept his apology--well, it would be all he deserved. But he hoped to win her heart.

But word awaited them when they arrived at Cairo. There were letters for him and Marcus Brody.

Marcus Brody read his, and his face grew deathly serious. He showed it to Henry Jones, who became equally somber.

Indy opened the telegram he received. He scanned the page and saw the words "Marion Ravenwood". His face broke into a delighted grin--and then he read the openning line.

We regret to inform you--

It was Marion's Jewish ancestry, through her mother. She was targeted for reprisal by the German High Command.

Indiana Jones wandered the streets of Cairo in a near catatonic daze, the crumpled telegram clutched in hand. His feet shuffled in tempo to the endless phrase drumming in his mind. _She's dead. She's dead._

Marion had taken employment as an assistant curator at the Smithsonian Museum. The she disappeared one night--the same night Indy and his father were in Berlin attending the book-burning. Her bullet-riddled body was found in an alley a few weeks later--while Indy, his father, Marcus Brody, and Salla were in the Valley of the Crescent, after the Holy Grail. They had carved a swastika into her back, and a Star of David, and the word "Juden". It happened on U.S. soil--in the U.S. capital.

Intel put it all together. Indiana Jones was held responsible for the deaths of valuable officers: Colonel Dietrich of the Wermact and Major Toht of the Gestapo. Colonel Vogel of the S.S. The toll continued. The deaths of the two collaborators, Rene Belloq and Walter Donovan. The loss of men and materiel. He was blamed for the failure to secure the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail.

Indiana Jones plainly was beyond their reach. Time and again he had eluded capture. His resourcefulness was legendary. He was born under a lucky star.

But Marion was accessible.

Indy had been within arm's reach of the Fuhrer. He could have shot the bastard and ended all this Third Reich nonsense. Rumors of these extermination camps were beginning to circulate. The physically handicapped, the mentally feeble, the racially inferior--humans were being erased from existence. Indy had a horrible premonition. The final toll of this "final solution" would be utterly beyond comprehension.

What had stayed his hand? It was that damned Grail Diary that Henry Jones Sr. had loved more than his lawfully wedded wife.

What was this Grail? A goblet--an item of dishware. He could have purchased a coffee mug at the five-and-dime. For that Elsa Schneidner had plummeted down a bottomless chasm. Those lustrous blue eyes, that resplendant golden hair, that haughty demeanor, a mind that had revered learning as much as Indy himself--gone in as instant.

What was the Ark of the Covenant? Did it compare with Marion Ravenwood? Those twinkling brown eyes, that rich brown hair, a warm engaging smile, a fiery passionate soul; her love and anger were equally precious. Marion was his dearest love. She had helped heal his heart of the hurt of Addrianna.

For what had he left Marion? What had obssessed him? For a three-thousand-year-old dust-filled box, covered with twenty-four karat gold foil and lifted out of a basement full of serpents.

What was that Rene Belloque had said? "I take this ten dollar pocket watch and bury it in the sand for a thousand years. It becomes worth something. Priceless, like the ark. Men will kill for it--men like you and me. We are simply passing through history. **This**--this **is** history!"

Men like him--. No. Not anymore. What could be worth more than someone to love? Someone to come home to, to share the meal with--**and** the bed--**and** the expenses. Someone to bicker with, and to reconcile with again. Someone to have a family with. Even those two old curio hunters, Abner Ravenwood and Henry Jones fathered a family. It was just that neither one had done justice to their respective wives and children.

What did Robert Browning say? Grow old along with me! / The best is yet to be, / The last of life, for which the first was made.

No wife--no children. Not Indy--never Indy.

Therefore he could say with unfeigned sincerity: to hell with all antiquities and relics.

Indy wandered the streets of Cairo in a drunken stupor. His mistake the last time was to stay at one establishment. That had enabled Salla and the children to find him. The last time--Marion had **not** died in the explosion. She had been transferred to another truck. There would be no waking from the nightmare this time

"Uncle Indy! Uncle Indy!" It was Fuad, Salla and Fayah's eldest son.

"What 'd'ya want, kid?" asked Indy warily.

"Come back. Come home with me."

He rudely waved Fuad away. "In case you haven't noticed, kid, I'd rather be alone right now."

Fuad was persistant. "Uncle Indy! I cannot let you do this thing!"

"And what thing is that?"

"Taking your own life."

"And why should'nt I?"

Fuad planted himself firmly in front of Indy. "Because you will forfeit your place in paradise. You cannot enter the Blessed Existence."

And Indy looked the young man in the eye. "Who told you that?"

"The Holy Books," said Fuad simply. "The Word of God, through His teachers and prophets."

"Which ones?"

"All of them. The Torah. The Qur'an. The Gospels."

Indy staggered drunkenly. "In case you ain't noticed, kid, I'm not exactly in a pious state of mind. In fact, if the Man Upstairs showed up right now, I might say something to Him that would get me tossed into Hell anyway."

And Fuad said simply, "Uncle Indy--I loved her, too."

Indy looked up sharply. "Loved who? Who do you mean?"

"The daughter of Ravenwood-pasha."

Indy stared at Fuad.

Fuad squared his shoulders. "Yes. I also loved her. The twinkle of her eye. The warmth of her smile. Her beauty, her courage. Her name--Marion--it was magic Like Mars, the Roman god of war, she could be tough. And like Mary, the Blessed Mother of the Christ, she could be tender."

Indy stared harder. The kid was sharp--almost as learned as Indy had been at that age. And street-smart, too.

"There are many men who loved her--and admired you for her love for you."

And the kid had a way with words. The empty bottle slid from Indy's loose grip and landed with a thunk on the packed earth street.

"I am not a man fully grown, Uncle Indy. And she gave her heart to you. But would you deny me the right to love her any less than you loved her?"

Indy shook his head. "No, Fuad. I won't deny you that."

"Then come. Do not let me grieve her alone." Fuad offered Indy his hand.

Indy had not taken someone's hand in that genuine spirit of friendship since he had last seen Kip Walker. And suddenly he missed his old friend--missed him sorely. When Adrianna had jilted Indy, Kip had understood.

Indy walked with Fuad back to Salla's home. Sometimes he had to lean for support. Sometimes, they both wiped their eyes with their sleeves.

"She was one in a million, Fuad," slurred Indy.

Fuad nodded. "Yes, Uncle Indy. I agree."

But when they turned the final corner to the street where Salla's family lived, Indy swore. "Sonofabitch!"

Fuad was a little startled. "Yes, Uncle Indy. They came looking for your father, Brody-pasha--and yourself."

And if Indy had been sober, he could have had a clear enough head to decide whether to take his revolver out and plug them, or his bullwhip and sting their stinking asses--and a steady enough hand to do either--or both.

It was them. Overdressed for this climate. Fanning themselves and mopping their foreheads with kerchiefs.

Colonel Musgrove and Major Eaton.

**_to be continued_**


	3. Ch3:a dinner guest,the god of the sea

When we last left Indy, he was mourning the death of Marion Ravenwood. The scene was set following Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. For the purpose of the story, Indiana Jones And The Palace Of The Crystal Skull never happened.

I jumped back to 1913. Why? Well, some authors consider that kind of storytelling bold, edgy, and innovative. My rationale is much more practical--some sections of the story are done before other sections are.

Don't worry. I won't post the last chpt. ahead of the rest of the story. Although I read books that way. Drives my family bonkers.

For Indiana's other biographical details, I draw from the first three Indiana Jones movies and Wikipedia.

I should tell the readers kinda belatedly. I've always done Kim Possible fan fiction up 'till now. And I've been spoiled by the dozens of reviews I've received. So I'm feeling friendless in the new readership.

But GarfieldofBorg, that excellent fellow, tagged my story as a "favorite story". So my fragile ego has been rescued.

Various archaeological and historical things are referred to. Julius Caesar, August Caesar, Cleopatra, Ptolemy, Nicholas Copernicus, the Venus de Milo, Sandro Botticelli and his painting, Birth of Venus.

Lee Falk, famous adventure comic strip writer, placed Bangalla in various places--the Asiatic mainland, in the Indian Ocean near Sri Lanka, the east African coast, the west African coast--for my own reasons, I have made it an island again. Kip Walker, Bangalla, the Wasaka tribe, the Bandar tribe, Uzuki the Demon God, Gerald Standish, the H.M.S. Requiter, the Singh Brotherhood, and the man of many names--the God Of The Sea, the Guardian of the Eastern Dark, the Man Who Cannot Die, the Ghost Who Walks, the Phantom--are his creation.

And who is our mystery hero, with the ancient lineage? We'll see.

Indy and Dr. Jones, Sr, are the creation of Steven Speilburg.

Adrianna Spencer and Coronado Butte, Utah, are my creation.

_**INDIANA JONES AND THE FACE OF UZUKI**_

_**chpt. 3**_

_**a dinner guest: the god of the island and the sea**_

_**SEPTEMBER, 1913**_

_**CORONADO BUTTE, UTAH**_

A disheveled fourteen-year boy slammed the screen door as he entered the house.

"Dad, I invited Kip over for supper!"

That's good, Junior," his father said absently. Actually, it was more than good. Dr. Henry Jones, Sr. almost rubbed his hands with glee. At last! Someone to discuss the latest news with--and he didn't think of the European troubles or the burgeoning automobile industry as the latest news. He thought more in terms of the latest excavation at Troy or Pompeii--or the exploration of the polar regions.

Christopher Walker (where did he get the name of "Kip"?) could cook as good a meal as Dr. Jones had ever eaten--remembering poignantly back to the days before his dearest Anna had passed away from the scarlet fever--and the Jones family still allowed itself amenities like servants. Plus his son's close friend was much more considerate about washing the dishes after the meal.

Actually, Christopher Walker Jr. did **many **things better than Henry Jones Jr. He was more deferential, more sociable, had more initiative, more life direction, not as foolhardy, and even had better grooming.

They were also much alike. Both had ridiculous nicknames. (As his father often reminded him: Indiana is the **dog's** name.) Both had lost parental figures and were fanatics for learning. They were single-minded in their pursuit of retrieving trophies of the past.

There was something else, not so easily defined--a rightness, an incorruptibility. Under both the clean-cut exterior of Christopher Walker and the disheveled exterior of Henry Jones lay a heart that could only be described by that old fashioned word _chivalrous, _a heart that was veiled, contained, like a knight within his armor.

That word "chivalry" conjures the image of the armor clad knight, but it is the man within, and his noble behavior that earns the title and is worthy of the honor. The chivalrous heart of Kip Walker, and the chivalrous heart of Indiana Jones responded to the weak and defenseless and suffering like a spring sun, giving warmth, or a gentle summer rain, giving refreshment, or a warm blanket, enfolding the sufferer. But to those who dealt out suffering and inflicted the weak, the chivalrous heart was like a black thunderstorm, unleashing its fury in jagged lightning and pelting rain, or a drawn sword, sharp and shining, inflexible as steel.

but

Between father and son a perfunctory "Dad" and a curt "Junior" was the sum total of the verbal greeting.

But for Kip, a formal, respectful, yet gracious greeting was both given and received. "Dr. Jones, good evening, sir"

And the man who insisted on formality and respect rose from his seat and grasped the hand of his son's friend warmly. "Hello, Christopher."

But those nicknames tested Dr. Jones' patience and credulity. "Indiana" was the dog's name. And "Kip"? it sounded like "kippers". Did he even **like** smoked salmon?

He carried out his usual ritual. "Boys, can you sound out your Greek and Latin?"

And Indy grudgingly complied, reciting his numerals.

But Kip went one better. "Yes sir, how high would like me to go?. I can also do Hebrew."

Tonight, Kip Walker noticed Dr. Jones' little leather bound book on the desk. "Working on your Grail Diary, sir?"

Dr. Jones shook his head. "This is a slight diversion." He pointed to a little copper figurine. "Do you know this fellow?"

Kip looked seriously, soberly. "Uzuki," he said quietly, "The Demon God of the Wasaka, from Bangalla Island, in the Indian Ocean, off the western coast of equatorial Africa--the god of Destiny--the judge."

Dr. Jones raised an eyebrow. Again the young man impressed him. "Very good, Christopher! I thought I was the only man in Utah who might be familiar with the Wasaka.

"My father grew up on the Dark Continent, sir," said the young man. "He taught me a great many things."

This was another thing about Christopher Walker--his mysterious background. He claimed that his parents lived overseas--that his father was a world traveler, a scholar, and somewhat wealthy. He lived in a small rented house in this corner of rural Utah, Coronado Butte, with its wild untamed mountains, canyons, and plains. He shared the house with a middle-aged man of swarthy complexion named Miguel. The man appeared to be both valet and guardian. He might be African or Arabic or central Asian. It was hard to tell.

Christopher had the apparent maturity to conduct his affairs like an adult, even though he was a teenager. Dr. Jones wished that Junior was as motivated.

But for tonight, Dr. Jones had found someone who shared the knowledge of his latest archeological interest. "I've traced the story back to Columbus. The European nations were flexing their limbs. Portugal--Spain--France--Holland. Their age of exploration was about to commence. China was already exploring the world with her fleets. She was at the height of her maritime powers. The Mogul emperors of India were reaching out."

"The Age of Exploration," said Kip.

Dr. Jones nodded. "It was an exciting time to be at sea, but also a dangerous time. Pirates infested the coastlines of the world--especially the Indian Ocean. Along the coast of Asia--Arabs, Indies, Chinese. They robbed and burned ships and towns at will. Along the coast of Africa--slavers ravaged the tribes. The worst of the lot was the Singh Brotherhood. They were the Mafia of the Indian Ocean."

Dr. Jones had spread out a world map and was pointing out the areas.

Indy rolled his eyes. _Dad--I'm sure Kip knows the world map as well as you or I._

Dr. Jones took little notice of his son's disparaging pantomime. "Now it's at this time that the legend of Uzuki intersects with real history. On the little Isle of Bangalla, just north of Madagascar--it's hardly the size of a small African tribal kingdom--you could compare it with any of the little Caribbean or Polynesian or Indonesian islands--doesn't even appear on world maps--geologists believe that in recent geological times, it was joined to the mainland by a land bridge, much like the Isthmus of Panama--the original ancestors of the island dwellers migrated over it to the island--much like the Asians who migrated over the land bridge of the Bering Strait between North America and Asia--or between Russia and Alaska--and became the American Indian tribes--"

"Dad!" said an impatient Indy. "Just tell the story!" Indy had heard it before. His father could so easily wander off the thread of a story.

And Indy was fed up with it--with his father as well. His father, who loved ancient ruins and temples more than the house he lived in--who loved ancient human mummies more than his own wife and son--as he had when he had dragged the family to Egypt when Indy was ten. God knows--Indy would **never** succumb to such a temptation.

"Now--on the little island of Bangalla, where the Wasaka had dominated the Bandar for centuries, conquering them, enslaving them, selling them to the Singh pirates--the legend of Uzuki takes shape and grows a pair of legs--literally. In short order, there are a series of violent historical events. An English ship disappears--the H.M.S. Requiter, captained by Gerald Standish--who had been an actual cabin boy of Christopher Columbus--"

"Dad--" said Indy again.

"I'm getting to it, Junior," said Dr. Jones curtly. "Presumably the Singh pirates have destroyed the Requiter with all hands--suddenly the Bandar rise up and overthrow the Wasaka, whom they call 'giants' possibly because of inherent height differences between the two tribes. The Bandar claim that their God of the Sea--the scholars call him Mare-Theon from the Greek--no one knows his Bandar name--the God of the Sea has simply walked out of the ocean, according to prophecy, and delivered the Bandar from their captivity--like Moses and the Hebrews, or Sampson, don't you know? But he doesn't stop there. This new deliverer appears simultaneously all over that corner of the world--Arabia, India, Ceylon, Indochina--the Singh Brotherhood is methodically wiped out. Warlords and slave traders tremble in fear. They say that it is Uzuki punishing the evildoers. He is given various titles. The God of the Sea. The Guardian of the Eastern Dark. The Ghost Who Walks. And the most recurrent name is simply--the Phantom."

"Miguel used to tell me the story, sir," said Kip. "With his left hand he bestows reward and blessing. And with his right hand he inflicts punishment."

Dr. Jones beamed. "Wonderful! You know your tribal legends well. Yes, that's exactly it. A skull-shaped scar marks Uzuki's victims. He goes forth walking to rid the world of pirates and evildoers.--as a man. The Ghost Who Walks--and he wears a mask to look like a man. But if any lift the mask and see the face, they die."

Indy looked at his friend. Kip seemed to know the story as well as his father. He couldn't help listening. It was fascinating.

Dr. Jones continued. "Now the strangest part of the tale is this. Once every generation Uzuki wanders the world in search of a bride. Now there are two versions. One is he consumes her. The other is, if she consents to marry him, the world is safe for another generation--sort of like a beauty--and the beast."

"Now--what's fascinating is--this clearly hearkens back to the myths of renewal, both seasonal and cosmic. In Greece, Persephone agrees to be the bride of Hades for half the year and the world is plunged into winter. And when she is freed, it is summer again. In Egypt, Osiris is killed. His sister-spouse--ritual incest--lots of that in the tales, don't you know. Anyhow--his wife Isis brings him back to life and restores the yearly flood of the Nile River, making the earth fertile. In Phoenicia, Tammuz weeps for her husband-brother Adonis, killed by demons, and her tears are the raindrops."

"And allowing for slight variations in the elements of the story, we find the same thing in the tale of a later historical epoch. The Flying Dutchman is condemned to sail the seven seas forever, never to reach landfall--except for once every seven years. If he finds a woman who will join him in his eternal exile--for sake of love--he can find rest."

"Archetypes of the wanderer abound in literature. We read in Wagner's Parsival of Kundry, who wanders the earth--the legend of the Wandering Jew..."

At that point, Dr. Jones began to ramble, and the boys went to prepare dinner.

Indy and Kip talked while in the kitchen.

"So," said Indy slyly, "Noticed the new girl at school?"

Kip was impassive. "What new girl?"

Indy other was incredulous. "**What** new girl? Adrianna Spencer--**that** new girl!"

Kip shrugged. "Oh--I guess I have."

Indy was wound up. "Jeez! She's a vision! She's gorgeous! She's a Venus de Milo!"

Kip poured off the water from the boiled potatoes and started to mash them. "More like a Venus rising from the sea in the seashell. Like Botticelli's painting."

The Venus de Milo, a second century B.C. classical Greek statue, was kept in the Lourvre Museum of Paris, France. Sandro Botticelli's painting, Birth of Venus, was kept in a gallery in Florence, Italy.

Indy loved it. Him and Kip talking in mythical references. "Liar--you **have **noticed her!"

And so for the rest of the evening, Uzuki and his Bride were forgotten by the thoughts of the breathtakingly lovely New Girl, Adrianna Spencer.

The New Girl at Coronado Butte Junior High School attracted attention like gravity attracted falling objects…

_**to be continued**_


	4. Chapter 4: new girl at school

Newsman: thank you for making this a fav story.

Screaming phoenix: thanks for the reviews.

I'm wasting my time with fan fiction when I should be packing to move out of the home I shared with my wife who had served me with divorce papers.

Like I'm real eager to do that.

People can accumulate quite a lot of junk in a quarter century together. It seemed important at the time when we got it.

Sometimes the junk can seem more important than the person you're collecting junk with. Sometimes gathering the junk covers the pain going in one's heart. Or can disguise the growing gap between you and the other person.

Just a few background item. In this period, the early 1900's, Beijing, China, was known as Peking.

Most of what I describe as the events leading up to the First World War was what I learned in my junior year of high school--back in 1969. My teacher Robert S. had a gift for making complicated stuff understandable without oversimplifying it.

What I describe with Queen Victoria trying to keep in touch with the other nobility of Europe--her shirttail relations. I got that out of a book I recently checked out of the library. It's checked back in. I doubt I could even find the title. It's about the marriage of her daughter to the son of the Emperor of Germany.

The old gal was around for a long time--she reigned for 70 years. She's gotten a bad rap for being over-moralistic and stuffy, for encouraging white European imperialism in the Third World--kind of like what triggered the Boxer Rebellion in China--or the Sepoy Mutiny in India. What are they? Check out Wikipedia--or Encarta--or whatever. Do a Google. Or open up that encyclopedia your folks have around. Remember? Books. The pre-computer thing. Or even hit up the library. Study. It broadens one's horizons. Us Indiana Jones fans should at least have a working knowledge of some history, if nothing else--like our hero.

Back to Victoria. That could be. But--as Shakespeare says in his play Julius Caesar, (more or less) the good a man does oft lies interred with his bones. The generation I grew up in--peace, love, and getting stoned--had a thing about putting down all the previous generations--and I don't see Gen X or Y doing any better.

Queen Victoria was about courtesy--and proper behavior. Her grandkids were in almost every royal household. Spain. France. Russia. Germany. Greece. She could see the coming conflict, and tried desperately to talk sense to both the royal families and the elected Prime Ministers. And for her lifetime, she carried it off.

But the 20th century for the most part seemed to belong to the very men she tried hard to oppose: Hitler. Stalin. Franco. Mao. Pol Pot. Idi Amin. Ho Chi Minh. Kim Il Sung. Bloody ruthless men. All of them. (yeah, I know, I'm laying more history on you. Do your research, kids. Make this old man proud.)

I'm getting carried away with describing the big things in the world at the expense of the little things going on in the lives of our protagonists. Maybe the same thing is going on in my real life. I'll try and do better with that in future chpt.'s.

One thing I notice as I get older. Again and again I notice. Figuring out what problems are is real easy. Figuring out how to fix them can be a lot harder--a real pain in the drain.

Now. The usual disclaimers. Indiana Jones, Spielberg & Lucas. Kip Walker, Lee Falk. Adrianna Spencer, Coronado Butte, me.

_**INDIANA JONES AND THE FACE OF UZUKI**_

_**chpt. 4**_

_**the new girl in school**_

Kip Walker had noticed the little figurine that had belonged to Dr. Henry Jones, Sr.

And with all the suppressed excitement of a kid showing off his newest toy, Dr. Jones had launched into his recitation of the Uzuki lore.

…"Archetypes of the wanderer abound in literature. We read in Wagner's Parsival of Kundry, who wanders the earth--the legend of the Wandering Jew..."

At that point, Dr. Jones began to ramble, and the boys went to prepare dinner.

Indy and Kip talked while in the kitchen.

"So," said Indy slyly, "Noticed the new girl at school?"

Kip was impassive. "What new girl?"

Indy other was incredulous. "**What** new girl? Adrianna--**that** new girl!"

Kip shrugged. "Oh--I guess I have."

Indy was wound up. "Jeez! She's a vision! She's gorgeous! She's a Venus de Milo!"

Kip poured off the water from the boiled potatoes and started to mash them. "More like a Venus rising from the sea in the seashell. Like Botticelli's painting."

The Venus de Milo, a second century B.C. classical Greek statue, was kept in the Lourvre Museum of Paris, France. Sandro Botticelli's painting, Birth of Venus, was kept in a gallery in Florence, Italy.

Indy loved it. Him and Kip talking in mythical references. As much as the old man loved sharing **his **knowledge. "Liar--you **have**noticed her."

The New Girl at Coronado Butte Junior High School attracted attention like gravity attracted falling objects.

She was as tall as Indy. Not exact slender. Quite full-figured. Curly red hair that fell past her shoulders almost to her waist. Dimpled cheeks and full lips. And green eyes that shown like emeralds.

One of the other boys said something like, "God! Get a load of her ba-zooms!"

However, one of Kip's stern glances shut the kid up.

But it was in history class that the girl made her strongest impression.

The teacher droned on and on. And suddenly he made the remark, "--The famous astronomer Ptolemy, who was also Cleopatra's brother and king of Egypt--."

Indy cringed and thought to himself. _This is the guy who mixed up Julius Caesar and Augustus Caesar. He needs to retire! Or become a math teacher! _He looked at Kip and scowled. His facial expression betrayed his thoughts. _Should I tell him or do you want to?_

Kip smiled. And shrugged. And started to raise his hand--.

--The new girl raised her hand.

The teacher interrupted his lecture. "Yes, Miss Spencer?"

She spoke in a sweet dulcet voice. "Please excuse my interruption, Mr. Elders. I wanted to point out that Ptolemy, Cleopatra's brother lived in the first century B.C. And Claudius Ptolemy the astronomer lived in the second century A.D."

The first Ptolemy was one of the generals of Alexander the Great. He became ruler of Egypt after the death of Alexander and founded a dynasty. They observed the Egyptian custom of Pharaoh marrying his sister. In all there were a total of eight Cleopatra's and sixteen Ptolemy's. the most famous Cleopatra, the last one, was the daughter of Ptolemy XII. She was compelled to marry her brother Ptolemy XIII. They fought over the throne. She enlisted the aid of Julius Caesar. After her brother was killed, she was forced to marry her brother Ptolemy XIV, whom she poisoned after Caesar's assassination. The last Ptolemy was her son by Caesar, whom Octavian, Augustus Caesar, had murdered after her suicide."

Indy and Kip stared at each other. _Wow._

The teacher looked dismayed--corrected by student again. This was becoming quite humiliating. His head spun. _Again with the Julius and Augustus Caesar. Fifteen Ptolemy's. Sixteen, if you count the astronomer. And eight Cleopatra's. And she had to mention the royal incest. And the suicide If the Superintendent hears about this, I'm sunk._

But Adrianna continued. "But you're quiet correct, sir. Ptolemy the astronomer, in his book the Almagest stated that the earth was the center of the universe. And it wasn't until the sixteenth century that Nicholas Copernicus stated correctly that the earth orbited the sun."

The teacher smiled wanly. He stood a little straighter after recovering his dignity.

Other students shook their heads. _A Know-It-All--just like Jones and Walker!_

It was after class that they headed her off.

"Hi!" said Indy.

"We're--" Kip began.

"Indiana--"

"And Christopher--"

"--Jones!"

"--Walker!"

The girl stared wide-eyed from face to face and burst out laughing. The sound of it was enchanting, And the two boy's hearts were snared. She was captivating. "Indiana?" she asked.

"Well--actually my real name is Henry--but they call me Indiana."

"And they call me Kip."

She shook Indy's hand. His deep brown eyes reminded her of her teddy bear. His roguish grin and unkempt brown hair made her sigh. "Hi. My name's Adrianna Spencer." She shook Kip's hand. His height and square shoulders reminded her of Michelangelo's David. His dark hair and formidable blue eyes made her knees weak. "But you can call me Adie."

"So--Adie," said Indy with good-natured insistence, "You've probably heard about the dance this coming Saturday." He nudged Kip. "Can I interest you in going with one of us?"

Kip shook his head and sighed. "Indy--give the girl a break. We've hardly met."

Adrianna smiled a dazzling smile. "I don't know when I've had a more appealing offer. A night out with two such dashing gentlemen. I'll go with you both."

The duo of Indy Jones and Kip Walker became the trio of Indy, Kip, and Adrianna Spencer. They were inseparable. They had lunch together and studied together.

At the dance on Saturday, they both escorted her, Kip on her left arm, and Indy on her right arm. She seemed tireless, dancing first with one then the other.

Kip let Indy have the last dance with her. Indy was plainly smitten.

The two boys walked her home together.

They fell into talk. Adrianna's father was a commissioned Army officer, and an amateur archaeologist. He had served in Peking during the Boxer Rebellion.

In response to the forced presence of the foreigners, a Chinese secret society developed, called the Society of the Harmonious Fist. The Europeans called them the Boxers. For two months during the summer of 1900, the Boxers had besieged the families of the European delegations in their quarter of Peking, until they were rescued by a multinational expeditionary force.

Adie was born during the Boxer rebellion. Of course, she was too young to remember. But her father had told her stories of those dangerous days. And as she grew up, they had traveled the world. And wherever they went, Col. Spenser shared the local history and archaeology with his daughter.

"Daddy happened to stop in Damascus," said Adie, continuing her story. "We took a trip down the coast. He wanted to show me all the places mentioned in the Bible. We stopped at the excavations in Jericho--."

That was all it took for Indy to share his life story with Adie. "--So we were in Cairo. And I was with my tutor Miss Seymour. She took me down to the Valley of the Kings. They were just digging up the tomb of Tutankhamun."

Adie was as captivated by Indy's story as Indy was by Adie.

Kip was aware. He even relinquished Adie's arm so she could hold Indy's arm with both of her, as Indy held her attention. He didn't mind. It didn't escape his notice how starved for companionship Indy was. It was a gift Kip had--sensitivity to pain and suffering. It was a family trait--a family calling. And one day, Kim must answer the calling, and take up his destined vocation, as his father had done, and his father before him.

Kip could empathize with Adie. Even now she was talking about her own father's new duties.

Col. Spencer was off in Europe, traveling from national capital to national capital, as an informal ambassador. Officially, the government of the United States wanted nothing to do with the squabbles of the rival nations. Germany versus France, Germany versus Russia, Austria versus Russia, Russia versus Great Britain, Great Britain versus Germany--on and on. Unofficially, Col. Spencer was a special envoy to London.

King Edward VIII had tried to continue the policy of his mother, Queen Victoria, of corresponding with the other monarchs and noble families, encouraging peaceful relations. On his behalf, Col. Spencer made appeals to kings and prime ministers. The Crimean War of 1899 had been a disaster for all nations involved. If another European war broke out, the modern mechanized warfare would unleash a bloodbath.

Adrianna remained at home, caring for her ailing mother.

Indy had found a kindred soul--even more kindred than Kip.

Adrianna and Indy found they had a common acquaintance--T.E. Lawrence, who was serving the Royal Army in Egypt.

And so the two of them conversed animatedly for most of the walk to Adrianna's house.

They saw Adie off at her home. She kissed them both.

In the days that followed, they continued their studies together. But the level of Indy's closeness with Adie started to become just a little more intense than that of a study partner--or his closeness with Kip.

Kip did not mind. Indy needed someone more than Kip himself did. His chosen life's work dictated that he would remain lonely for the remainder of his earthly existence. But in the back of his mind, he was hoping to find a future wife. It was a daunting goal for someone so young

But then, so was his life's work--and his father's life-work--and his father before him.

And in order to carry on the family tradition, each Walker son had to go forth and find a wife--to carry on the legacy--for the good of the world.

As Uzuki did, so the legends said.

Each boy loved her, and related to her in his own way Indy called her "Adie". And Kip called her "Adrianna". Indy stole kisses and hugs. Kip carried her books and held the door. Indy encouraged her to cut classes sometimes. Kim encouraged her to attend as much as she could.

Kip appealed to Adie's mind. But Indy appealed to her heart.

And so the school year passed.

Until Indy and his father moved to Princeton, New Jersey.

And Kip went back to see his father--at Bangalla Island.

And in eastern Europe, a Serbian assassin fatally shot the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the throne of the Austrian Empire.

Austria threatened Serbia with retribution

Serbia appealed to her great ally, the Russian Empire.

Russia promised to defend her little ally. She declared war on Austria.

Austria was called the "sick old man" of Europe. She was in no position to defend herself from the Russian bear. She appealed to her great ally, the German Empire.

Germany was the strongest nation in Europe. She declared war on Russia.

Russia appealed to her ally, France.

France and Germany disputed ownership of the rich iron mines of the Saar region between the two countries

The Ottoman Empire of Turkey deputed ownership of the Balkan countries, like Serbia, with Austria.

And so everyone declared war on everyone.

And despite the best efforts of men like Col. Spencer, Europe was plunged into the ghastliest war the world had ever known. A war of tanks, machine guns, and aeroplanes carrying bombs. A war of muddy trenches and barbed wire. A war of hideous weaponry--poison mustard gas and flamethrowers. A war of brutal mechanical efficiency where casualties would mount into the millions.

Nations in Asia, Africa, and North America would be drawn into the conflict. It would be a World War.

_**To be continued**_


End file.
